Jump
by love.strawberries
Summary: [faint slash, DxH] I just want to die, but Harry Potter just has to mess even THAT up for me. Really, doesn't he have better things to do then bother me?
1. Jump

**Disclaimer- I don't own HP. Please don't sue me! **

**A/N- I got the whole suicide thing from a really good fic I read, if I remembered the name, I'd tell y'all to go read it!**

**

* * *

**

I'm going to jump. I'm going to jump right here, and there'll never be anything more that I have to worry about. No more evil fathers, no more whinny mothers, no more has-been villains, no more stupid school.

Now, if you're wondering, yes, I am considering jumping off the North Tower. And yes, I am Draco Malfoy. Now, why exactly am I doing this?

Not exactly sure myself. I can give you a thousand useless reasons, but it all comes down to one thing. I hate life.

I do, really; I'm tired of it all. Tired of having my father constantly beaming at me for taking the Dark Mark, tired of my mother always babying me, tired of all the idiots at school kow-towing to me, tired of the endless jibs and jabs at Potter and his friends, tired of having Dumbledore watching me twenty-four/seven, and tired of listening to and about Voldemort (yes, I said the damned name) killin people. I mean, god, how much more egotistic and storybook bad guy can you get?

But, I guess those aren't really good reasons to why I'm jumping. Well, I don't think there're _ever_ any good reasons to killing yourself. And yes, I know that there are other ways to do this, that I can talk with someone, I don't have to kill myself, but frankly, I don't care.

I really don't want to talk to anyone and have them patronize me and such. I figure, this is a good way to end it, no mess (well, except for Draco-pieces in the yard) no fuss. No having to bother anyone, no having to get rope to hang myself, or a razor to slit my wrists, no having to sneak some kind of poison out of Professor Snape's cupboard.

I leaned slightly out and whistled. It's a _long_ way down. I have a feeling it's going to hurt.

I pulled out the green ribbon Pansy gave me a couple days back (to hold my hair up, as it's gotten pretty long, and I really don't feel like cutting it) and let it rustle in the wind. Then I let go and watched it fly away.

Corny, yes, but I want to be like that. Flying free, with no restrictions.

I think that's the root of all of this. I want to be free, I don't want to follow rules any more, not my father's, or my Professors', of Voldemort's, or anyone's. I want to make my own rules, being Head Boy only gives you so much.

I wonder how my father will fell about this. I think, he will be genuinely sad. I know he loves me; it's just that he's _evil_ so he can't show it in the usual happy-daddy way.

I sat back down on the ledge. I have time, I don't have to jump _now._ And no, I'm not getting scared, thank you very much; I'd just like to clear up SOME things before I take the leap.

They say life is filled with drama and angst for teenagers, and they couldn't be truer. I'm just _overflowing_ with the shit. I mean, how many other kids do you know who have crazy dads and evil madmen as relatives? Not that Voldemort is a relative, but the way my father talks about him, he might as well be the founder of our family.

I remember, when I saw thirteen, I was so happy to be connected with a family who was rich and served the "Dark Lord". Then, as I learned more and more about him, I didn't find him as appealing. I mean, he's all crazy and weak, and needing others to do his dirty shit. HOW can anyone want to follow him?

Oh, and if you're wondering, I have some lovely Muggle whisky with me, so I am steadily getting pissed as a hooker. I usually don't curse at all, but hey, drunk here.

Looking out over the school grounds, I wonder, who'll find my body? I hope it isn't some innocent little first year; I'd hate to be responsible for years of nightmares and psychological breakdowns.

Aren't I just wonderful, worrying over who'll find my body?

Okay, I've thought about my father, and Voldemort. Who else is left?

Ah, I know.

Harry Potter.

Now, he needs to just crawl into a small hidden hole and die.

Okay, so maybe I don't hate him that much. But I do hate him. But not in the evil-taking–every-chance-to-kill-him way. Actually, he's good for me. With all our rivalry, he's made me try harder, try harder to be better, faster, smarter. I mean, you can't really hate someone who pushes you to be better.

Now, don't go thinking I'm all in love with him, 'cause I'm not. But I think, if given the time and the right situation, I could. It's a little scary how easily I could fall for him…

And that, ladies and gentlemen, I think, is all my life troubles. Laid out and thought over. Not sure if I resolved anything, but hey, I thought about them!

I stood up, saluted the sky (a Muggle gesture I learned from Blaise), and had one foot off the ledge when a familiar voice interrupted me.

"Malfoy!"

And all my elegance and dignity was shed as I turned to the voice, tripped, and did a belly flop out the window.

Really, I wanted to die with _some_ grace.

* * *

**Hahaha, I ended it in this way! But, maybe, with some persuasion (cough-reviews-cough) I could be convinced to add a sequel? Or more? It all comes down to you –points to you- to determine the fate of this story!**


	2. I Could Fall

**Disclaimer- I don't own HP. Please don't sue me! I'm not any richer now then I was when I wrote the first one. Not that that was a lot to begin with.**

**A/N- I switched it to present tense. **

**

* * *

**

My name is Draco Malfoy. I'm dead.

Well, not really. But I tried. That counts for something, doesn't it?

Let me retell my story.

See, I was really tired of life, and I really didn't want to grow old and die ugly. I wanted to die looking good. And I also wanted to die _now_. So, I picked a dramatic and fantastic way that fit me best. I was going to take a nosedive out of the North Tower.

So, I'm standing there, one foot in the air, and guess who messes me up?

Yes, him. Stupid, idiotic, bad-timing Harry Potter. Fucking Boy Who Lived And Must Mess Up Others' Suicides.

He comes out of nowhere and yells my name. I turn, twist, slip, and fall out the window.

But, I fall maybe a foot before something hitches itself onto the collar of my cloak and chokes me! Chokes me! I want to splat to death, not suffocate! My face was turning colors (I could feel it) and then I'm pulled back up and yanked into someone's arms.

I pant and gasp while this really annoying voice yells in my ear.

"What the hell were you doing, were you trying to kill yourself! You could've fallen, and been little Draco pieces on the grounds! (I try to interrupt him here and tell him that _was_ the general idea, but he just keeps going.) I hate you, but not enough that I want you to be dead! What the hell?" The last couple of sentences are punctuated with various shakes and prodding.

But finally, I got my hands around his and pull away. "Damnit Potter, stop it, or you're going to give me brain damage!" He blushes instantly and lets go off me, which makes me fall back on my ass, as I'd been pulling against him.

I glare at him from the floor, then regain my noticeably absent grace and stand up. I dust off the back and straighten the collar.

"Now, why exactly are you trying to kill yourself, Draco?'

"I don't know, maybe because I want to die!"

"I know _that_, you useless git, but why!"

"It's none of your business, leave me alone!"

Harry lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Yes, leave you alone to jump from the Tower, and maybe land on some innocent passerby's head. And anyways, my conscience wouldn't let me."

"Well, then, ignore your conscience, all good murderers do, and leave."

He rolls his eyes, and then sits right on the ledge of the window, keeping me from going over. "No."

I shrug. "Fine then, stay there, there _are_ other windows, you know." And with that clever answer, I turn around (my cloak making a dramatic flair) and stomp away.

But of course, he messes that up too. I get to the top of the stairs before a hand grabs me by the back of the cloak, _again_, and pulls me up short.

"Damnit Potter, must you ALWAYS CHOKE ME?"

"No, but I do enjoy the chance."

I yank my cloak away, and guess what I heard?

_Rrrrriiiiippppp!_

"BLOODY HELL!"

And also, as soon as I start to yell, a group of first-years pass right by with Professor McGonagall

"Mr. Malfoy! Watch you language! Ten pints from Slytherin!" She glares at me (everyone's glaring at me!) and ushers the terrified-looking kids away.

I spin to Harry, who is trying (unsuccessfully) not to smile. "You- you-you-you- ARGH!" I spin back away from him and race down the stairs, ignoring his yells behind me. 

I'm not sure exactly where I'm running to, but I'm running, and that's the only thing that matters. And now, to my horror, I feel tears beginning to gather in my eyes.

I'm a Malfoy, I don't cry.

But when all your plans and fail and your life has just turned very bad, I dare Voldemort to not cry. Hmmm, as many times as he's had to put up with Potter, he probably has cried a couple of times. I find I now have a newfound twinge of admiration for him, for his perseverance on killing that damned bastard.

I stop, and look around. I'm by the edge of the lake. There's no sign of the Giant Squid. I turn my face up to the sky, and think of happy things to calm myself down.

Harry Potter with a mustard-yellow sock stuffed down his throat.

Harry Potter dying with me choking the life out of him.

Harry Potter walking in front of all the houses in a floor-length neon pink Muggle dress.

Okay, I'm slightly happier now.

"Draco!"

Grrrrr…

Harry appears in front of me, doubled over and panting from chasing me. I have a little inside laugh over that. I wait in silence as he catches his breath (if I were it, I'd be running away too), then straightens up and stares at me. "Why the hell d'you run away for?"

"I don't know, maybe because everytime I'm near you, something humiliating happens?"

"Well, I'm only trying to keep you from killing yourself!"

"And why the hell are you doing that! I want to die, damn you, and now more then ever, since you just KEEP on BUGGING me!"

He crosses his arms and glares at me. "Well, I'm not going to let you."

I gape at him for a second, then glare back. "You have NO right to do ANYTHING regarding me, and you also have NO right to be in this in the first place."

"You want to kill yourself, how can you say that it's not my business?"

"Because it's NOT! It's not your concern!" I spin away with those words and walk away, trying to calm myself down. I don't understand what he wants, and I don't understand why he won't leave me alone. All I want to do is die, in peace. If he's supposed to be all noble, why can't he respect my wishes and lave me the hell alone?

_And when have you ever respected _his_ wishes?_

Damn conscience. I don't want on, and I don't need one. And yet it keeps coming back, sounding surprisingly like Harry.

And damnit, when did I start calling him Harry! It's Potter, Potter!

"Malfoy! Malfoy, wait up! Draco! Hey!"

I ignore him and keep on walking. Why doesn't he want me to kill myself? He should be happy and offering a place where I can jump to a good view, not trying to stop me. I can't take this anymore; he's driving me insane. How did my life turn out like this?

"Malfoy, c'mon, wait." His voice is right next to me, then a hand is on my shoulder and spins me around. I turn with it.

He's not glaring at me anymore, no, he's looking at me with something inn his eyes I've never seen. And I don't want to see it. Remember how I said I could fall for him? Well damnit, he's doing it, looking at me like that.

He doesn't say anything, just stares at me. "Why? Why do you want to kill yourself?" And he says it in a voice that's so soft and quiet… I don't want to run anymore. I'm tired.

I sigh. "Because life just isn't worth living. I'm just tired of it all. I'm tired of worrying about everything and everyone. I'm tired. I want to close my eyes, I want to sleep."

I turn away with that, feeling slightly ashamed at myself. I just told him something I haven't fully admitted to myself. I'm supposed to be the perfect Slytherin, with no emotions, no feelings, no weaknesses. What a load of crap.

"Draco…" I get turned around, then engulfed in a hug.

I'm stunned, so I don't lift my arms, to push him away or to pull him closer. I just stay still, tense. And absently, I think about how soft his hair is, how warm his body is, and how I'd like to stay here.

* * *

**Please reviw! And tell me if you want the last part. **


	3. Tired

**Disclaimer- I don't own HP. Please don't sue me! I'm not any richer now then I was when I wrote the first one. Not that that was a lot to begin with.**

**A/N- All done!**

* * *

Harry and I sit together outside, by the lake, still. He's staring up at the sky and I'm staring at the water. I've got my legs pulled to my chest and I'm hugging them. I feel like a little child, but it's okay. I deserve to be little, just once.

Harry turns to me. "Talk to me."

I look at him, then to the sky he was looking at before. "When I was little, I used to dream. I don't dream now. I have nightmares. But when I was little, I had this one dream, and I had it over and over. It was me and my father, at a carnival. He was carrying me on his shoulder, and laughing. I was laughing with him and holding a Chocolate Frog that had started to melt and drip into his hair. That's why we were laughing."

I could see him start a bit, probably incapable of picturing my father that way.

"I knew it was a dream, because in life, he hated carnivals and chocolate, and if I had ever gotten anything on him, he would've punished me, not laugh."

I stop talking and look away from the sky.

My name's Draco Malfoy.

I want to die, but this person next to me… He doesn't want me to. I can't understand it. He's supposed to hate me, and I'm supposed to hate him. Why isn't anything working right?

I tried to kill myself, but he stopped me. He hasn't given me a reason why, but I'll get it out of him.

And now, we're sitting outside, at the lake, talking. Really talking, having a conversation, not insulting ach other.

I shake myself out of the little mood I've gone in and stare at Harry. "Now you talk. Tell me why you don't want me to kill myself."

Harry looks away, a faint blush on his cheeks. "It's a personal thing. Maybe… I'll tell you later."

I don't answer, instead, I let myself drop onto the grass, not caring that I would have grass stains on the back of my cloak. I stare up at the sky, but not by choice. It's really the only thing to look at, lying on my back like this.

"You know… I'm tired of fighting too. I'm tired of trading insults with you and your friends. How 'bout we stop?"

I can only se Harry's profile from where I am, but I can see him smile. "All right. Friends then?"

I smile too. "No. I might be tired of fighting you, but I didn't say anything about being friends with you."

He keeps smiling. "I thought so."

I get up then and stretch. I brush away the back of my cloak, feeling ht little grass pieces fall. I turned to Harry, who's still sitting down, watching me with that smile. And on impulse, I lean down and kiss him. He doesn't seem surprised, only catches my face with his hands and kisses me back, harder, faster.

I let go of him and stand back up. I know I'm panting slightly, but it's okay, because he is too. I can see it in his eyes, wanting and longing and regret and a lot of things I don't know. And that's okay too, because it's in my eyes too.

I smile one last time and walk away. He doesn't stop me this time.

No, I don't want to be friends with him. Friends… that's personal, intimate. I can't do friends; I'm not someone who supposed to have friends. But, lovers… Lovers I can do. Fucking is impersonal, it's just fucking, then you're done and out.

I have to hide my heart, because I know I'll fall for him. I can't do that either. I know I'll end up hurting him. And I'm not cruel like that. I can be though.

But you know…. Even with all this, I'm still tired. I'm still waiting. Waiting for what? A time and place I can die. And this time, there'll be no Harry Potter to stop me.

I hope he's not _too_ terribly disappointed.

* * *

**This didn't come out the way I planned, but it still came out pretty good. I'm happy with it.**


End file.
